


A Handful (of Love)

by PeriPeriwinkle



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Fisting, Intercrural Sex, Lazy Sex, M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 12:26:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8327800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeriPeriwinkle/pseuds/PeriPeriwinkle
Summary: Garret and Fenris have the entire day for each other, so they decide to take the time to try something they haven't tried before.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday senpai!!!!! <3 I promised u a fisting fic, and a fisting fic is exactly what u get. you're welcome.
> 
> thank you [Jasper](http://justjasper.tumblr.com) for beta'ing for me <3 you're the best!!!

Here, in the dim light of Kirkwall’s late afternoon, where the sun is almost setting and streaks golden rays all over Kirkwall, around the hour when the city seems to retreat into itself, that pause right before the corruption floods them right back; this is when Garret used to find himself the happiest in Kirkwall.

Now, lying in his bed, bathed in that same golden sunlight filtered by the glass panes of his window, with the sounds of Hightown outside dwindling to its usual evening quietness as Fenris’ hands roam all over him, is definitely when he feels pure bliss.

They’ve been at it for several hours.

At the beginning of the day, Garret sent Orana along with Bodhan and his son Sandal to maybe take a stroll around the city, take the day off for a change. He also placed a handful of sovereigns in Orana’s hands and begged them to spend the night out in one of the hightown’s inn’s, spend to the last coin to get themselves some nice treats, all on him. Orana held his hand in both of hers like she knew exactly what he meant, her cheeks now so much rosier and rounder than the first time he ever saw her, and she gave him a sweet, understanding smile that reminded him so, so much of his mother.

So he calls Fenris over, who immediately notes the absence of the ever loyal servants, then gives Garret that impish smile that only means fun times, the one that sends shivers down his spine. Oh, what a joy it is, to have worked things out with Fenris, to love and know he’s loved right back just as intensely, to not have to hide his giddiness whenever their eyes meet, whenever they hold hands or kiss, and see the joy in Fenris’ eyes, crinkled at the corners as he smiles and shakes his head, as if Garret’s utterly hopeless. As if he’s not just as in too deep as Garret is.

They move to the bedroom early in the morning, clothes lost in the blink of an eye, draped across furniture or strewn onto the floor, and although the path to the bedroom is sure and quick, their pace is slow, unhurried. Certain they have all day to indulge in each other, to bask in each other’s presence, drink in each other’s breath and warmth and radiance, rolling around the sheets, tangling legs and arms and fingers and tongues. Mostly tongues, too.

Neither one of them - in a not-so-silent agreement - have reached their respective climax yet. They drown in the sensations but hold back just at the brisk of it, stopping when it becomes too much, waiting in between panted breaths, not to restart from where they stopped, but to begin anew, as if they hadn’t started anything at all.

At lunch time, Garret, the weaker of the two when it comes to sexual stamina, is handfed sliced fruits and cubes of fresh cheese from Fenris as he lazes in bed.

“You know,” Garret says, placing his empty glass of water next to the now half-empty pitcher and stretching his body along the bed, toes curling over Fenris’ thigh and making him chuckle. “We still have all day to do whatever we like. We could, you know, do stuff we don’t usually have the time to indulge in.”

“Hm. That is true,” Fenris agrees, his long fingers stroking Garret’s hairy ankle, calluses tickling the skin there and making him flinch. “Do you maybe have something in mind?”

“Maybe,” Garret watches Fenris’ hands with rapt attention; the way it gently caresses his skin now, sending shivers up and down his spine, and how those fingers give him a different kind of shiver when they’re knuckle deep in him, rubbing and teasing or pounding and torturing him. Garret sighs out shakily, his body reacting pleasantly to the memories. Fenris grins. He knows very well what he does to his lover. “Yeah I have an idea, sure. You remember that one time, when you were opening me up, and I was so into it you got four fingers in me?”

“Yes?” Fenris lifts a single brow, and Garret smiles, curling his toes in anticipation and pinching the skin beneath them.

“Well,” he says, drawing the word out, “I was thinking, we could maybe do that again, but you know... _keep going_.”

Fenris knits his brows, looking more confused than anything. “You want to come with four of my fingers?” He asks, stilling his hand. “That sounds pretty tame. I’m almost sure we’ve done that before, even.”

“No, no, no,” Garret says, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I want you to not stop at four fingers.”

Fenris pauses. “You want the fingers of my other hand, too?”

Garret laughs, because the mental image is just that edge of more ridiculous than sexy, and hides his face in his hands. Fenris chuckles, reaching up to hold both of Garret’s wrists and gently pry them away from his face.

“Alright, alright, I see that’s not it either. Spit it out, Hawke, you can do it.”

Garret takes a few deep breaths to get his chuckling controlled, then sits up on the bed, kneeling right in front of Fenris and taking both his hands on his own. Fenris waits with a grin, thumbs circling Garret’s knuckles to help him calm down. It’s soothing. It works.

“Okay. So. I, Garret Hawke... would like you, Fenris... to put all five fingers of your dominant hand in my ass. And then some.”

Fenris’ thumbs still, and for a few seconds no one says anything, as Fenris processes what’s being asked of him. He frowns, his face twists in confusion, then he makes a tight fist with one of his hands and frowns at it, too.

“Garret.”

“Fenris.”

“Are you certain about this?” He’s eyeing his fist still. Garret looks down to contemplate it too, watches as Fenris twists his wrist around, imagines it inside him. _Fuck_.

“Yes. Positive.”

Fenris looks up at him, lifting his brow again. “This is something Isabela suggested, isn’t it.”

“ _Look_ , she just kept making those innuendos of you sticking your fist in people, and y'know, that’s Bela for you, but after that day with the four fingers... well, it got me thinking.”

“Hm,” is all Fenris says, looking back down at his now open hand. “Alright. I agree. Truly, I’m not opposed to it, just... never considered it as a possibility.” He lifts his hands, turns it around in the air between them, as if analyzing it. “I don’t have small hands, I believe. And even though you’re bigger than I am, I’m fairly sure asses are of an universal size.”

“You’d be surprised,” Garret says, giggling. “Bela has told me some incredible stories from the pearl, which, uh. I may or may not have seen first hand to believe.”

Fenris grins, crosses his arms in fake annoyance as Garret rubs his nape. “Alright, I believe you. Say my hand is physically capable of fitting inside you. How are we supposed to go about it, exactly?”

“Slowly. With lots of patience, me getting as relaxed as possible, and lots and lots of oil.”

Fenris tackles the relaxed part first. He lays Garret belly down on the bed, takes their scented massage oil, and begins rubbing his back, mounted atop his buttcheeks. Neither of them are hard quite yet, even though Fenris’ penis is quite noticeably slotted almost perfectly between Garret’s cheeks, but Fenris doesn’t seem to care or worry for the time being; he presses and rubs at his lover’s back with a strength only a man that hefts a broadsword as tall as he is around like it's nothing, with a care that only someone who knows what he's doing and wants to do it well is able to. Garret moans the whole way through, both in pain and pleasure as he melts into the sheets, mouth drooling as he balances on the verge of a very pleasant nap.

By the time Fenris reaches Garret’s lower back, Garret is floating; and finally the touches begin to feel more erotic, hands pressing against Garret’s hipbone, fingernails teasing at the skin, palms sliding down onto his buttocks and squeezing. Fenris slides down and settles against Garret’s thick thighs, hips moving back and forward with the kneading motion his hands are doing on Garret’s behind. His dick stirs with interest, hips moving slowly against the bed along with Fenris’ movements.

“ _Maker_ , Fenris, if you get me more relaxed I swear I’ll start snoring any second now, and no one wants _that_ ,” he says, almost whining, and Fenris chuckles darkly, sending yet another pleasant shiver down Garrett's back.

“If you say so,” he whispers, grabbing harder at the flesh beneath his hands so they won’t slip and parting them, leaning down and blowing a warm breath against the hole just to see it twitch. “Hmm. You smell so good. You cleaned yourself before we started, yes?”

“Fenris, trust me when I say that between you and I, I’m the person least looking forward to making a me _-e-e-ess!_ ” The rest of his sentence is cut short by a broad, warm tongue licking over him, then the tip of it prodding until said tongue slides into the ring of muscle with ease. “Ohhhh, _Fenris_.”

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, lips wet and breath hot against his skin, quickly replaced by slick fingers. Garret gasps, clenches, but melts back against the mattress when a soothing hand rubs his side, when Fenris presses a kiss against the small of his back. “I’ve got you, Hawke.”

It’s a slow affair. One finger, then two, those are easy. The third takes a bit more work, gets Garret writhing, hips curling up to meet the thrusts of Fenris’ hand, quick and sharp, then slow and deep. The fourth takes a bit of adjusting, but it just makes Garret moan louder, louder than he’s been all day, sweat clinging to his skin, Fenris’ teeth sinking into the meat of one buttock and making him gasp.

“You’re so beautiful like this, Hawke. So open and happy. Just for me,” he whispers in between his breathy moans, words Garret barely processes, so far gone he is. Fenris adds more oil, sinks his fingers in deeper, and he screams in a ragged breath when he feels the knuckles of his hand rubbing against him, when his prostate is deliberately pressed against to get him to react.

“So fucking _gorgeous_ ,” Fenris says again, twisting his hand this way and that, taking his sweet, precious time. Savouring it, making sure he’s doing it right. Making sure he’s not rushing it, not hurting him. Garret’s chest swells with joy, with affection, all mixed in with pure lust and just a bit of nervousness for what’s to come. Fenris’ hand sink in deeper, one inch at a time, and at the same time it feels like too much it also feels _glorious_. “There, open up for me, just like that. You know what to say if you want to stop, right?” Fenris asks, hand not halting but shallowing his thrusts. Garret swallows, licks his lips, nods against his pillow. “What should you say, then?”

“S-seafoam,” he stutters out, voice weak, and Fenris kisses his lower back again.

“ _Perfect_ ,” Fenris murmurs, free hand rubbing his leg, squeezing, and Garret focus all of himself into relaxing, into sinking into the feeling of Fenris behind him, Fenris inside him, Fenris kissing every single inch of sweaty skin he can find, all _Fenris Fenris Fenris_ , like a mantra inside his head, like an anchor to help hold him in place as he willingly drowns.

He has no idea how long it takes until Fenris’ hand disappears inside him, but he gasps loudly with the sensation when it finally happens, as if all the air has been punched out of his lungs. He feels Fenris’ hand twisting inside him, fingers curling into a closed fist, careful, careful, always so fucking gentle. He feels all of it with his every single heartbeat, with every gasp and moan he makes, with every fraction of an inch that he dares to move. Trapped against the bed, his dick pulses, leaking steadily, interested with the turn of events. Fenris hums.

“How does it feel?” He asks when Garret manages to calm back down again, and Garret swallows, takes a few deep breaths before answering.

“ _Full_ ,” he says, daring to angle his hips up towards Fenris, screaming out when he does so. “S-so fucking full, it’s almost... almost too much, _shit_.”

“Should we stop?”

Garret tries to shake his head, stopping himself short when the motion pulls on Fenris’ wrist.

“N-no, Maker, please, _no_ ,” he begs, _whines_ , twisting his head back to finally, _finally_ look at Fenris. His face and shoulders are flushed, his bronze skin tone turning golden against the firelight, the sun long gone and the night settled onto the city. His hair is disheveled, a hint of sweat on his skin, his bottom lip red where he’s been dragging his teeth on it, like he’s been prone to do when he’s nervous or concentrating very hard on something. In this case, Garret figures it’s both.

He looks amazing, and Garret feels himself falling in love all over again.

“Dont stop,” he whispers, sinking back into his pillow with a sigh, and Fenris nods, a hint of a shy and excited smile on his lips.

Without another word, he begins moving.

There isn’t much room to move, really, but Fenris twists his knuckles, pumps very shallowly back and forth, tries very carefully to rub against his prostate to hear him scream and gasp every time he does. Garret isn’t a quiet person in bed - Fenris says it goes with his talkative day-to-day self - but this evening he’s being _spectacularly_ loud. It’s all very overwhelming, Garret’s body feeling hotter than usual, his nerves lighting up like fire when it explodes from the tip of his staff, making every sensation feel so much more intense than the can remember them ever being.

“Come now, love,” Fenris whispers, free hand sliding beneath Garret. He feels like the position might look awkward, maybe even funny, something that would make Garret snort in any other situation, but right now all that he can focus on is Fenris’ hand slipping beneath his body, reaching for his member, hand warm and slick, with sweat or oil he doesn’t know or care.

“That’s it,” he says as Garret moans out, screams, lifts his hips to allow Fenris easier access, jostling the fist inside his body, so many things coming together all at once and overwhelming him with sensations.

When Fenris’ fingers wrap around him, all it takes is a few long, firm strokes and he’s coming, blood pumping loudly in his ears and muffling all sounds around him, body clenching around Fenris' wrist and making him shout out in beautiful agony, so loud he knows his neighbors will be remembering his voice for weeks to come.

When he opens his eyes again, he looks at the window, stars visible in the pitch black sky, the glass panes reflecting the firelight that warms up his room, warms up their bodies. It bathes his home in golden hues not unlike the ones that shine in the afternoon sun, the ones he so very much loves, especially here, with Fenris by his side, with him inside him, like they’re one whole being, clinging to each other and hoping to never let go.

It takes him a few minutes to come down from his climax, more powerful than any he’s ever had, and when he does, Fenris is leaning over him, gently kissing the back of his neck, licking the sweat away. “I’m going to pull out now, love, is that alright?”

Garret nods wordlessly, and with a bit more oil, Fenris starts pulling his hand out, gently, slowly, shushing Garret as he gasps with overstimulation. Once the widest part of his hand is out, it slips out quickly, and it’s almost like a sigh of relief, a feeling of emptiness left in its wake, and Fenris collapses next to him, erection rubbing against Garret’s leg.

“ _Fenris_ ,” he sighs, turning on his side and rubbing back against him, crossing his legs in a silent invitation. Fenris moans low in his throat and leans closer, hugs Garret against him, presses against the slick space in between his thighs.

“ _Hawke_ ,” he says against his neck, and Garret clings to the hand that presses against his sternum, leans back, bites his lip. Allows Fenris to finally let go, warm come clinging against his legs, running down onto the bedding. Turns to kiss him on the lips, pulls Fenris on top of him so he can lie on his back and hug him against his chest.

“We should clean up,” Fenris whispers against his collarbone, sticky hand lying loosely atop the sheets as Garret strokes his white hair absently. “You’re an absolute mess.”

“Ten more minutes,” he says, and although they both only wake up hours later, when the sun is almost ready to rise again, painting the sky outside that perfect light pink that only lasts so long before it’s golden again, before it all gives way to the blue and whites of the early morning of Kirkwall, and although he feels so awfully sticky and sore he’ll probably walk funny for days to come, he doesn’t regret a single moment of it.

Not when it all just serves to remind him that come day or night, come dawn and dusk anew, that they’re still together. And that's exactly how things should be.


End file.
